


no church in the wild

by yahootoldyou



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Gen, M/M, Mob AU, New York City
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yahootoldyou/pseuds/yahootoldyou
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Han says, “but I’ve got a prior engagement to see to. You understand, yeah?” He doesn’t ask how the man knows his name because he’s afraid he’s just gotten himself into some serious trouble. Wedge’s grin grows and two men exit the front of the vehicle, big and brawny. Han puts up his hands and squeezes his eyes shut.“I’ll come, I’ll come. No need for any nastiness, right fellas?” He asks the two big men but their eyes are blocked my their hats and they say nothing, just the shorter man Wedge coming forward again.“Don’t worry, Mr. Solo, the boss won’t harm you, he just wants to talk.”OR: Two mobs are at war in 1920s New York City and everything seems to revolve around the odd Skywalker family and the rift between them. A young thief, Han Solo, finds himself caught up in it when he meets one Obi-Wan Kenobi and his life is forever changed...





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, can you light me?” Han walks over to a man who leans against the wall of the pub. It is a dingy, dull day in New York City, one so typical and yet the world seems to be on a precipice around him. Something is going to happen, he doesn’t know what, but he trusts his gut. It hasn’t led him wrong yet. The man grumbles at him, but it clearly isn’t in english. 

Han groans. He likes the immigrants enough, the son of Irish immigrants himself, but the language barrier can be frustrating. He wags his cigarette in the air between his pointer and middle fingers. Recognition flairs in the eyes of the man and he smiles, his canines pointy and his grin missing one of his front two teeth. His beard is thick and his hair is long, barely any of his face not being covered by the thick brown tresses. 

The man lights his cigarette and Han tips his hat in thanks, joining him against the wall. He sucks in the smoke, holding it for a moment before he releases it into the gray air around him, the smoke dissipating quickly. He knows the man probably can’t understand him, but he feels like spilling his mind to the guy and besides, if he can’t understand Han anyway, what danger is it? 

“You know, I’ve lived in Brooklyn my entire life. Son of Irish immigrants, you know how it is. They died a few years back and I got into some trouble with the law and have been running since,” he explains, the man next to him grumbling again. Han cracks a grin, the man’s tone understanding, like he shares in Han’s pain. A woman walks out of the pub and by the two men, her hair pulled up intricately, a braid wrapping into a bun. It is eccentric, but her face is particularly gorgeous, deep brown eyes making contact with Han’s own. The girl doesn’t smile like women usually do, her lips pulling into a frown and her brow furrowing as she rounds the corner to leave the alley. He notices the man’s eyes follow her too and smiles cockily at his companion. 

“Ain’t she a beaut? What do you think a girl like her is doing in such a seedy pub?” He asks, jabbing his elbow into the man’s side jokingly. The man chuckles although his gaze is intently watching the street. Han looks out after him, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Hey, what are you staring at? The girl is gone, you don’t carry a torch for the doll, do you?” He teases, but freezes when the man points across the street from the alley. There, the woman emerges again, taking a briefcase from another man in all black, his hat guarding his face. 

“What the-“ A gruff hand covers his mouth and Han’s eyes grow wide. This foreign man has knuckles the size of cue balls and Han isn’t frightened that much, but he’d like the man to get his hands off of him all the same. He shoves the man’s arm away angrily. 

“Hey Knuckles, what gives? I don’t know what game you’re playing, but-“ This time the man drags him to the wall and hushes him harshly. When Han looks across the street, he sees the girl climb into a large black car and the man who took the briefcase is staring right at them. Han gasps, but Knuckles just sighs. 

“Can you- Do you understand me?” He questions finally because the man has been a fairly decent communicator up to this point. Knuckles’s blue eyes pierce into Han’s soul when they whip to finally look at him and he gives a curt nod. 

“What gives?” Han whispers, annoyed at the man, “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” Knuckles chuckles and Han gasps out in pain, dropping the still lit cigarette in his hand. He groans, snuffing the thing out with his shoe. 

“ _Great._ That was my last one. Now I have to scrounge up the cash for another pack,” he complains to himself under his breath, knowing he's really just going to steal a pack from the nearby grocer. When he looks up, Knuckles is staring at him and Han opens his mouth to give the man a piece of his mind when tires squeal and a large black car pulls into the alley. 

A man in a grey suit and hat emerges from the backseat of said car. He has a lit cigarette in his mouth which Han looks at longingly. He removes the hat, looking at Han and Knuckles with a sure grin as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, clearly very recently lit and drops it on the wet pavement, not even bothering to put it out. His black hair is sleek and slicked back, his eyes hard. He reminds Han of the gangsters he’s seen in moving pictures when he can sneak into the theater. 

“Hello there, Chewbacca. How have you been?” The man greets Knuckles and Han looks up at his companion in shock. _What kind of name is Chewbacca?_ Is that Eastern European? Was the man escaping the Ottoman in its collapse? Han figures it doesn’t matter much, at least now he knows the man’s name. 

“Who are you?” He asks the man in gray and the guy smiles at him. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. My name is Wedge Antilles, Mr. Solo, and you’re coming with me,” the man says, gesturing towards the car. Knuckles walks to the car, getting in and leaving Han by himself. He freezes, looking at Chewbacca who just beckons him to come along. 

“I’m sorry,” Han says, “but I’ve got a prior engagement to see to. You understand, yeah?” He doesn’t ask how the man knows his name because he’s afraid he’s just gotten himself into some serious trouble. Wedge’s grin grows and two men exit the front of the vehicle, big and brawny. Han puts up his hands and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I’ll come, I’ll come. No need for any nastiness, right fellas?” He asks the two big men but their eyes are blocked my their hats and they say nothing, just the shorter man Wedge coming forward again. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Solo, the boss won’t harm you, he just wants to talk,” he assures, but Han knows a load of shit when he hears it. He sighs, willingly walking to the back of the car where Chewbacca had previously gotten in. Wedge follows, getting into the seat in front of them. 

“To the hotspot,” Wedge orders the big guys in the front and Han shivers. New York suddenly feels a lot colder. The man seems uninterested in Han and Chewbacca now and Chewbacca seems very relaxed, but Han is fidgeting. He’s been running from the law for years so it’s not like he can call for help if something goes wrong. 

“Am I going to die?” He whispers to his foreign friend and Chewbacca chuckles, the hairy man shaking with the force of it before he shakes his head. Han scowls, but feels a bit better about it, reaching over to pat the man’s arm in thanks. At least Chewbacca is with him, even if that is of little comfort. He allows the jazz playing on the radio up front to ease his troubles and calm his breathing. 

Eventually, the car pulls up in front of a large building, the exterior stone. It is a New York building for sure, but looks to be of little consequence. It appears as if it’s just a normal building, one Han wouldn’t second guess if he randomly passed it, but he guesses that looks can be deceiving if this is where Wedge has brought him. 

The interior is lavish, the walls draped in gold and finery, but Han can’t focus on the walls as grand as they are. Only one gang in New York is rich enough to finance a place such as this and he feels ice in his veins as he realizes he’s been captured by The Empire. He forces himself to breathe as Wedge drags him up a flight of stairs. He notices Chewbacca isn’t being dragged, just following leisurely and wonders if this entire day has been a punk. 

Upstairs, the walls are less grand, but still nicely decorated and Han finally looks around. The walls are kept carefully bare of anything that could possibly identify where he is or who he’s about to meet. The Empire famously has many places in the city and he could very well be in one of them, but he doesn’t know why he would be of any interest to them. 

He’s just a common thief, a no good smuggler trying to survive in the underbelly of the city, why would the most powerful gang in New York have any interest in him? Two doors swing open at the end of the hall he’s in and Wedge, who is surprisingly strong for a guy his size, tosses him in. He lands on the ground with an oomph, face nearly crunching against the tile, his hat rolling across the room away from him. He looks up when a hand on his shoulder pats him gently. Chewbacca frowns down at him apologetically, offering him a hand and Han takes it, letting the man lift him with his giant hands. If Han wasn’t so scared he’d feel inferior next to Chewbacca, the man so massive compared to Han himself. 

He notices the brunette from the alley first, her hair still impeccable and her face still pinched in a frown. She looks at him like he’s dirt and he’s sure she certainly thinks so if she comes from a place like the building they’re in. It is the blond next to her that inevitably draws his gaze, the man sitting in a chair behind a desk. His features are still soft, the man in question more than likely still a boy. Han tilts his head, looking at the boy’s bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair. He feels an urge to smile at the boy, but knows that it’s dangerous. 

_He’s not out of the woods yet, better not to flirt with someone who might be his killer._ Still, the boy looked sweet, his eyes crinkling as he whispers to the woman and then laughing at her response. 

“Mr. Solo,” the beautiful blond in question greets and even his voice is gorgeous, “Welcome to The Rebellion.” He pauses and looks at Chewbacca for clarification, but the man’s face is carefully composed. 

“The what now?” The blond quirks an eyebrow and then sighs. 

“The Rebellion, the second largest mob in New York City,” he explains and Han is floored. He’s never even heard of this gang before, how could they be so big? He opens his mouth to tell the kid he’s full of shit, but one look at the brunette tells him to keep his mouth shut. They both look relatively harmless, but something about them sets him on edge. For one, a woman such as the brunette would never be caught in a pub by herself yet she had been there alone all the same. And for the kid, well his eyes are as blue as the sky, but the look he has on his face tells Han that he’s really not that innocent. 

“Thank you, Wedge,” the kid dismisses the man that had dragged Han here before turning to Han’s companion throughout all of this, “Chewbacca.” Chewbacca responds in his language and he sees the kid nod, obviously understanding exactly what he’s saying. Han realizes at once that Chewbacca is part of this, not his ally, and he wants to kick himself for being so down right dumb. Both Wedge and Chewbacca nod at the kid before leaving along with the guards at the door, shutting it behind them. 

“My name is Luke Skywalker and this is my twin sister Leia,” the kid-no, Luke says as he calls Han’s attention back to him. He walks around the desk and now Han can see the gun on his belt. The name seems familiar, like something Han has heard…

“ _Skywalker?_ Like infamous Republic killer Anakin Skywalker?” He asks and Luke tilts his head, a coy smile on his lips. Han hasn’t heard of Skywalker since the fall of the old gang The Republic which was replaced by the The Empire. 

“That’s the one,” Luke confirms, pointing at Leia and then himself, “our father.” Han nearly chokes on nothing, his eyes wide and fearful as he gazes at the two Skywalkers in front of him. The supposed children of a legend long dead. 

“Anakin died when The Empire destroyed The Republic and all of its members,” he accuses, looking Luke and then Leia in the eyes, “there is no way he’s your father. You’re far too young.” Leia scoffs, taking Luke’s spot in the chair he had vacated and putting her feet up on the desk. Luke looks back at her and smiles briefly. 

“We’re twenty-three actually, we were born in the transition of the mobs and raised in The Empire until on our nineteenth birthday we witnessed something… Let’s just say we started our own gang with the intent to destroy The Empire and allow the corruption in this city to end,” Luke explains to him gently and Han… Han agrees with that sentiment. He’s been fighting the established corruption in New York since he himself was a teenager. He frowns, considering all of what Luke has just told him. 

“What do you want from me?” He asks and Leia rolls her eyes, but Luke grins the widest, cutest smile Han has ever seen. He nearly smiles back at him, but keeps his face calm and neutral. This is what Han is guessing a recruitment meeting and he needs to appear as though he isn’t eager. 

To be in a gang-a _mob_ though, that could save him. It could give him some friends, a chance to make money and get off of the streets. He knows that it isn’t the smartest options, that it might kill him in the end, but he sees himself saying yes to the boy with bright blue eyes. 

“We want you to join the family. We only pick people we’re sure are on our side and can essentially be trusted. Chewbacca has given you his approval which is huge to us,” Luke says and his face is so earnest, so purely innocent that Han actually smiles along with him this time. 

“All I did was chat with the guy a bit,” Han defends and he looks back at Leia who has softened considerably. She isn’t smiling and now she’s playing with a knife, flipping it in the air and letting it fall back into her hand, but she seems like she won’t throw it at him anymore. 

“You were kind to him even though he spoke no english and you apparently accepted his friendship when you gave him a nickname,” Luke says and Han is stumped. He did enjoy talking to the man more than he had admitted in that moment, they seemed like they might have a lot in common. Han shrugs, pretending to think it over. He knows he wants to say yes, drawn in by these strange twins and their odd accumulated family around them. He thinks he’d maybe like to be a part of it.

“I’m in,” he says and Luke’s smile grows impossibly larger. Leia smiles a small smile before dropping the knife on to the desk and joining her brother at the front.

“Welcome, Han Solo,” she finally speaks, her voice as strong as her personality and Han smiles at her too, feeling drawn to the twins in a way he hasn’t towards anyone in a long time. He wants to help them achieve their goals and defeat the Empire, bringing about the end of corruption in New York. 

“What does this entitle?” He clarifies, because he may be poor and from Brooklyn, but he isn’t stupid. He’s heard enough about gangs and learned enough from his own time in the streets to know that this life in a gang isn’t easy, just a lot cleaner. Luke’s head tilts, a knowing look in his eye and he beckons Han to follow him. Leia stays behind and when he looks back all she offers is a flair of her fingers in a short wave. He salutes her and bows dramatically before following her brother out into the corridor.

“Once you’ve proven your loyalty to the organization, you will be offered a room here with us like all high ranking members are,” he explains and Han wonders when he became important enough to be a high ranking member. Still, it’s shelter he can’t afford to pass up. 

“I have debts,” he warns Luke, but the boy just smiles. 

“What do you think Leia was doing in that pub today? Lounging? No Mr. Solo, I assure you that Jabba The Hutt has been paid in full,” Luke says and Han wonders what he is supposed to call the kid in front of him. He figures he’ll stick to Mr. Skywalker since Luke has used his title since they met. Still, Han has no idea what to say or how to thank the kid so he just hums.

“Leia and I were raised by Darth Vader himself in The Empire, we know a lot about debts and bounties. We have a rather large one on our heads to be captured alive,” Luke exposes and Han gasps. They have not known each other nearly long enough for Luke to trust him with that knowledge. 

“Why are you telling me this?” He questions, because none of this makes any sense. Luke’s blue eyes search his own next to him with that same mysterious coy smile that makes Han’s heart beat faster. 

“Because, Mr. Solo… I have met many people in my life and almost all of them have meant to harm me and my sister in some way. You aren’t one of them,” he explains and Han nods as if that makes sense, like that isn’t absolutely absurd. 

“Your sister is right to not trust me, Mr. Skywalker, I’m a thief you’ve never met,” he says and notices the disappointment in Luke’s eyes when he addresses him, but the hope that has been shining there never dulls. Han wants to kiss him here in this hallway where everyone can see them, but he knows how wrong that would be. He wants to be here with them, wants to fit into this odd family as strange as the feeling is. 

“ _Is she?_ We shall see,” the strange boy says, placing his hand on Han’s shoulder and letting it drag down his arm as he turns and cups his mouth with his hand, “Wedge! Take Mr. Solo home if you would.” Wedge emerges from a room, another cigarette between his teeth and he sucks in some air before removing the stick and letting the smoke float from his mouth out into the air. 

“You got it, Boss,” he says, coming over to them. For the first time since he’s met him, Luke frowns. 

“Oh Wedge, you know how I feel about those death sticks,” he complains, his nose wrinkling. Han watches his face with rapt attention. Luke meets his gaze and his smile returns, a hand coming to brush across Han’s cheek. Han catches his hand and he can see the surprise on Luke’s face. 

“It’s been lovely to meet you, Mr. Solo,” he says in terms of goodbye and Han can’t stand it, can’t bear to have this beautiful man call him anything but his name. 

“Han… Please call me Han,” he says and Luke laughs, the sound like wind chimes and he pats Han’s cheek before pulling his hand away. 

“Mr. Solo, have a pleasant evening… I will see you very soon,” he says and with that spins on his heel and walks away, leaving Han dumbfounded in the hall by himself. He looks at Wedge who has the nerve to snicker at Han’s pained expression. 

“Come on, Solo, I’ll escort you home,” he says and Han walks out with him. On the way, he sees Chewbacca and knows he can’t leave without saying goodbye even if it’s temporary. 

“Hold on,” he says to Wedge, rushing over to his new friend who stands by the bar near the staircase. He clasps Chewbacca’s arm, a large smile on his face. The man in question grumbles something before looking up and smiling that wide, toothless grin of his. 

“Thank you, Knuc- _Chewie._ Chewie. I’ll see you soon,” he laughs, patting the man on the arm before going back over to Wedge, “continue leading the way.” Wedge rolls his eyes, gesturing for Han to walk down the stairs. 

The car from earlier waits out front and he gets in, content to spend the ride in silence. He gives the man his address, just up the street from the pub where everything started earlier and leans back in the seat. He has joined The Rebellion, a mob run by the children of one of the most feared Republic enforcers. _Whoa…_

"Want one?" Wedge asks, holding out a cigarette, but Han suddenly feels zero urge to smoke. 

"No, but thank you." Han doesn't want Wedge to hate him if they're going to be working together soon. He hopes the man gets over whatever grudge he has against Han. 

Wedge clicks his heel against the metal of the floor of the car as they drive through the streets all the way back to Brooklyn. The ride had seemed so short earlier, but now it drags, Han lost in his own thoughts as they drive past the familiar buildings of New York. His mother warned against things such as gangs, but she’s dead now and he’s wanted to fit in for so long. Luke had felt like home in a way he hasn’t had in so long, Han would’ve done anything to not leave the moment where his smooth hand pressed into the skin of his cheek. 

“Here we are,” Wedge says and Han startles out of his thoughts, smiling sheepishly at Wedge. The man says nothing as Han climbs over and opens the door. As he steps out though, a hand catches him.

“Mr. Skywalker is a kind man, far too trusting to be in the business. Hurt him and trust me there will be hell to pay, Solo,” he warns and Han nods, going to respond, but Wedge puts up a finger to stop him. 

“You should know though, to get involved with a Skywalker twin is potentially signing your death sentence,” Wedge says and releases Han. Han falls back, not realizing how he had leaned back, frightened by Wedge’s words. The car door slams in his face and the car speeds away from him, splashing some of the puddle onto his pants. He sighs, what had Wedge meant?

Han makes his way up to the seventh floor of the steep staircase, opening the door to his cramped, tiny cell of an apartment. He goes to the kitchen, opening his cooler to grab a beer he had stolen from the nearby grocer. He cracks it open, going to flip on the lights, and makes his way to the chairs by the small radio he owns. 

_“Mr. Solo,”_ a voice says and Han shrieks, dropping his beer on the crusty floor of the apartment. He grabs the lamp from the table that’s been unplugged for a while since he hasn’t stolen new lightbulbs for it yet for protection, holding it up in front of his face. 

“Mr. Solo, calm down, no one is here to harm you,” the soothing british voice says again and Han swears he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Says the piker who’s hiding in the dark of my apartment!” He catches his breath, struggling for a moment before he straightens up, putting the lamp down. The man’s hat guards his face in the dim lighting, but Han can see graying reddish hair under the blue hat. The man reaches up, removing the hat and now Han can see a man in probably his late forties early fifties. His eyes are blue or green, Han can’t tell in the lighting, and the man has far too many worry lines etched in his face. 

“I promise I mean you no harm,” the man says again, “I’m here to ask you about the Skywalker family.” Han stiffens, unwilling to compromise the twins he’s only just met. _…Why do you care so much?_ A part of him knows his attachment to them is unwise and dangerous and yet, he can’t help it. They’re so young and under so much pressure, they do not need a man like Han ratting them out on top of everything. 

“I won’t tell you anything about the twins,” he says and the man arches a brow. 

“You are in danger the more you associate with them, but I promise you that I am fond of the twins and want no harm to come to them,” he says and Han sighs, relaxing immediately. He doesn’t know who this man is or why he wants to talk about the Skywalkers. Han had only just met them. 

“Who are you?” He questions and the man sighs, standing and going to the cooler. He grabs another beer and cracks it, handing it to Han to replace the one he dropped. Han takes it gratefully, tossing back about half before he wipes his mouth, looking up at the intruder. 

“My name is Ben Kenobi and I am personally invested in their wellbeing. You see… I’m something like an Uncle to those two, not that they know it,” he says and Han nods, wishing that the day could rewind and go back to when he’d asked Chewie for a light. When he was a nobody. 

“I just met them, I’m not going to-“

“It’s not them you should fear, Han. It’s their father,” Ben says and Han startles for a moment. Anakin Skywalker is dead, he died during Knightfall when Han was just a small lad. He squints his eyes, looking at Ben for a moment. The man looks familiar…

“Anakin Skywalker died, they were raised by his killer,” Han says and Ben sighs, scrubbing his face with his palm. He looks up at Han with one eye showing from behind his hand. 

“No, he lives. Anakin Skywalker betrayed The Republic and became Darth Vader, the man that now leads The Empire,” Ben explains and Han finds a chair, dropping into it like dead weight. 

“ _How?_ How would you even _know_ that?” He questions, taking a big swig from his can again. Ben sighs, sitting next to him. 

“You may recognize me from my days with The Republic. My name back then was Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says and Han chokes on the beer, looking up at the man through teary eyes. He stands on shaky legs, walking to the small counter before he chugs the rest of the beer and slams the can down, grabbing the vodka next. He usually only saves it for his worst days, but this is too wild. 

“Obi-Wan _fucking_ Kenobi… You were a Jedi, part of the most ruthless group in the gang and-and-“

“And Anakin Skywalker’s partner, yes,” he completes Han’s thought and Han laughs, amazed at all that has happened today. He takes a long swig from the bottle, knowing he's getting bent tonight after all of this finally ends. 

“Han, I don’t want you to put the twins in danger, but I want to put Anakin behind bars… Will you help me?” He asks and Han sighs, knowing this is a bad fucking idea before he even accepts. 

“Sure, yeah. Yeah, I’ll help put that asshole behind bars,” he says and hands Ben the bottle. 

 

Hours later finds him on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling of his dirty apartment. What on earth has he just gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Han scrunches up his nose, sitting at the in-house speakeasy the twins own at headquarters. Chewbacca sits next to him, his facial features completely hidden in beard hair. Han reaches over and ruffles the man’s bush of hair. Chewie chuckles next to him. Han has a gin on the rocks in his hands, a drink his grandmother gifted him his love for. It’s not technically an Irish tradition, but it’s familial all the same. 

“Mr. Solo! May I have a word?” Luke Skywalker stands across the large room near the door to the office he shares with Leia. Han slides off the stool, taking his gin with him. He pats Chewie on the shoulder as he makes his way back into the boss man’s office for the first time in weeks. 

“Sure thing, Boss,” he answers, swaggering into his office and plopping into the chair in front of the desk and swinging his legs around to place them in the other chair. He smiles his prettiest smile up at Luke who grins amusedly down at him. 

“I believe you may be overestimating how much my sister likes you, Mr. Solo. Having your feet on the furniture is a massive offense,” he warns and Han just winks, taking a sip of his gin as he does. Luke chuckles, walking around the desk to sit in the chair that is still far too large for him. Han admires the blond across from him for a moment longer, Luke clearing his throat to regain his attention. He hums in response. 

“We have your first mission should you choose to accept it,” Luke says, clasping his hands together in his lap. Han wants to kiss the man’s knuckles, but he stays rooted in his seat, knowing that leaping over the desk at Luke would not end well for him. The boy is small, but something tells Han he is far from helpless. He rose up under Darth fucking Vader after all.

“Sure, sure, Kid. Where is that sister of yours anyway?” He wonders and Luke fixes him with an annoyed look. Han twitches, averting his gaze and moving his feet to the floor. When he looks up, Luke has a pistol aimed at him. He gasps.

“Solo, I remind you that Leia and I are your bosses. We are willing to accept you into this family, but do not forget yourself,” Luke threatens, his voice clearly low in his throat. He doesn’t want to reveal that Luke has caught him off guard, embarrassed a kid like him got the jump on him. He feels the pistol on his belt, wondering why he felt so unguarded around Luke. Four weeks ago, Han would’ve met his pistol eye to eye without thinking. 

_Han always shoots first._

“Sorry, Mr. Skywalker, I meant no disrespect,” he swallows his pride to say. Luke smiles at him, his pearly whites glinting in the bright crystallized light of the chandelier. The pistol disappears back under the desk and Han sees that it isn’t loaded as Luke puts it away. _Why threaten someone with an unloaded gun?_

“All is forgiven and forgotten, Han” the odd young man says and Han hangs onto the way Luke’s lips wrap around his name in awe. He startles when once again the strange boy clears his throat. It’s clear Luke is fairly uncomfortable now that he’s called Han by his first name.

“I appreciate it, _Luke_ ,” he says and the scowl returns with the pistol, the weapon in his hand faster than Han thought possible. “Good reflexes, Kid,” Han compliments with another wink. Luke nearly hisses when Han stands, making his way around the desk and coming to a stop. Luke scrambles to his feet, stalking forward to press the gun into Han’s chest, finger on the trigger. 

Han closes his hand not holding the gin around the gun and leans forward, whispering to the boy, “I’ll be awaiting my assignment whenever you’re ready.” Then, without another word, he kisses the tip of Luke’s left ear and spins on his heel, fleeing the room. He looks back only once and the flush on Luke’s face makes Han genuinely smile for once. One Han, one Luke, a tie Han is quite happy with. 

He joins Chewie back at the bar and sees Wedge enter Luke’s office from the corner of his eye. No surprise, Wedge emerges about five minutes later, his displeased self walking towards Han and Chewie purposefully. 

“Damn, wonder what crawled up his ass and died,” Han snarks under his breath, the large man next to him chuckling, making the bar top shake a bit. Wedge orders a drink, plopping himself on the seat next to Han. Han salutes the man who just rolls his eyes in response. 

“Don’t ask me how I got shafted with you torpedos, but apparently I’m taking you on your first mission, Solo.” Wedge sighs, taking a sip of his whiskey. Han wrinkles his nose. 

“I don’t know how you can drink that panther sweat, Wedge, it’s disgusting stuff. What’s this mission about anyway?” Han questions and Chewie places a hand on the crook of Han’s elbow. He probably means to lay off a tad so Han does, backing out of Wedge’s space a bit. 

“Do you ever put a lid on that mouth of yours, Solo? No, you know what? Don’t answer. Just get your ass in the car out front,” he says, his voice oddly defeated. Han takes the bottle of gin from behind the counter and refills his drink, topping Chewie off as well before hauling himself away from the bar. Wedge puts his head in his hands before sliding off the stool to join him. 

The trio find themselves pulling up to a building in Queens sometime later. Han looks around in suspicion. He doesn’t trust Queens at any time of day, but especially night time. The only place safe for a harp like him is his own community. There may be Irish in Queens, he’s heard of communities, but he’ll be damned before he trusts them. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says as Wedge nudges him from the vehicle. He sighs loudly, stepping out and looking up at the tall building ahead of them. Wedge shoves him towards it again, Han stumbling. 

“Quit it, will ya,” he grumbles, pulling out a cigarette before looking at it. Wedge snatches it from him, lighting it for himself and Han is grateful. He’s trying to quit. Chewie comes out to stand next to him and Han looks up at his tall friend, very unsure about what exactly they’re doing. 

“Okay, you’re going to go in that building. Luke’s precious crystal has been stolen and you’re going to retrieve it. Do that and your in,” Wedge instructs, heading back to the vehicle. Han raises an eyebrow, looking at Chewie who just shrugs. 

“No tricks? And Chewie comes with me?” Chewie frowns as he asks and Wedge chuckles. 

“Nope, Chewie’s with me this time around. Go on then, we’ll meet you back here when you’re done.” After giving his instructions, he climbs back in the car. Chewie clasps him on the shoulder and nods. Han smiles to show he understands. Once Chewbacca has climbed back in the car speeds away and Han is left alone in front of the tall building. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me with this one, Kid,” he mumbles, looking for a way in. There are no alleys and they dropped him in the front which makes him think there may not be a back. Besides, he’s got his pistol and his lucky dice in his pocket, he’ll be just fine. He checks the door to see if it’s locked and it is, so he pulls his metal pick off his belt and sets to work. He has the door open soon enough, slipping inside and shutting it as quietly as possible. The building is eerily empty, no one around and the lobby barren. He scratches his head, wondering what the hell is happening. 

A scream bounces across the room, echoing and Han takes off for the grand staircase before he can think twice. He takes the stairs two at a time, his pistol and shiv in each hand. The scream was female and it almost sounded familiar in the dark of the empty building. He bursts into a room only to find it empty. He starts kicking down doors left and right until all that is left on this floor is a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. He kicks them down, running in and there’s a man holding Leia at knife point, his forearm crushing her windpipe. Han aims the pistol, but realizes it’s too close to Leia. 

“Leia, drop!” He watches the woman drop like deadweight, her body completely going slack and falling just so that she wrenches out of the man’s grip. Han aims the shiv for the man’s arm, throwing it so it lands in his shoulder. The man screams and Leia crawls out of dodge to behind where Han is standing, his chest heaving.

“You beat me here to find the crystal, huh?” He asks and Leia stands, brushing herself off. She’s panting, but an astonished chuckle leaves her. 

“All hail the Empire!” The man yanks the shiv out of his arm and throws it towards them. Han tackles Leia to the ground, their faces close enough that he feels her breath frantically hitting his cheek. 

“Stay down, Your Worship,” he orders and then winces because he called her the nickname he made up with Chewie during his first week with the Rebellion. She manages to raise an eyebrow at him, but Han is readying his pistol, not focusing on her much at all. He closes his eyes, takes a breath and spins. 

Three shots go off, the man falling to the ground and Han rushes over, checking him for other weapons. When he’s sure it’s safe he returns to Leia and looks her over for wounds. 

“Leia, are you all right?” He asks as soon as he can breathe and Leia smiles, reaching up to swipe some of Han’s hair out of his face that had come loose during the confrontation. She smiles, opening her mouth to respond when someone begins to clap. 

Han turns, readying his pistol again, but the only person there is _Luke._ Han blinks twice and passes out. The last thing he hears is Leia yelling, “Good going, Luke! You killed him!” 

 

 

 

 

Later, he wakes up in his apartment, unsurprised to find Ben sitting in his usual spot. Han groans, rolling off the couch he always sleeps on and entering the small kitchen area he has set up. The place is dingy and it smells, but he’s grateful for a place to call his own. He places two glasses on the small countertop, grabbing some ice from the cooler and throwing it in. He’ll have to rob the grocer soon, he’s running low on supplies. 

He opens the cabinet saved for his liquor and is surprised to find a brand new, very expensive bottle of gin. He pulls it out, examining the almost crystal like bottle when he sees the note taped to the back. 

_For you, Han. Welcome to the family._

He scoffs, memories of what had happened in that strange building returning to him. He had saved Leia Skywalker from an Empire member, of that he had been sure in the moment… But then Luke Skywalker himself had shown up, clapping and Han had been in so much shock and sensory overload he just passed out. 

“You like gin, Kenobi?” He asks and Ben startles, looking up at him. The man chuckles, stroking his beard for a moment. 

“On the rocks, please,” Ben answers and Han’s glad because he already put ice in the glasses on the counter. He pours a generous amount into each glass, bringing one over to Ben and plopping down in the chair next to him. 

“Only way to drink it,” Han mumbles and Ben nods vigorously. He figures Ben has to be Irish too with his greying red hair and beard, obviously his family drank gin the way Han’s used to. The way Han still does. They sit in silence for a few minutes before Ben asks a question he’s wanted to ask every time he’s been here in Han’s place. 

“What are they like? The twins I mean?” Han stiffens for a moment, a harsh scowl overcoming his features and he grumbles for a moment, everything he says becoming incoherent. Ben looks at his new partner for a moment and realizes that Han cares for them. He cares for them in a way Obi-Wan can recognize. He once felt the same for Anakin and Ahsoka. 

“They’re impossible to understand; both bold and dangerous in their own way. Leia is aggressive, a fighter to the core and she makes it known. Luke though, he seems so innocent and kind, but he’s got this viciousness to him that I’ve only glimpsed throughout my time with them… I don’t know, Ben. Most of the time I’m lost when it comes to the Skywalkers.” Ben hums in response, stroking his beard again. 

“They are much like their father. Impulsive, brash in ways that both inspire awe and terror… They are enigmatic for certain,” he explains and Han’s glad he isn’t alone in all of this. He pats Ben on the shoulder who just smiles. 

“Any updates beyond our usual Skywalker lip?” Ben raises an eyebrow and then laughs. He supposes he and Han have become something like gossiping tomatoes. All Skywalkers all the time in their operation.

“Not besides the usual,” he answers Han before chucking the rest of his gin back and standing, his knees cracking. A sign of aging, he knows. He sighs, slipping back into his trench coat and grabbing his coat from the hook. 

“Where are you heading?” Han wonders aloud, head tipped back against the wall. Han had taken a long time to wake from his deep sleep and unfortunately, Ben couldn’t wait around tonight. 

“It’s Thursday, I have a prior engagement.” He slips out the door into the night, leaving a very quickly falling back to sleep Han Solo in his wake. 

 

 

 

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi sits at the bar with a gin on the rocks in his right, massaging his temple with his left hand as his elbows rest against the bar top. It’s late in New York City, the clock just chiming to alert him that it is the second hour; two in the morning. He sighs, wondering why he doesn’t just go home. He should. He definitely should. Yet, here he is, at the bar waiting for a man that hasn’t come in years. 

The city calls him Ben now; Detective Ben Kenobi. He hasn’t really ever thought of himself as anything other than Obi-Wan, but it is a name which can no longer have any meaning for him. When the Jedi were destroyed, Obi-Wan went with them into the abyss with the Republic as a whole. Years ago when he could still go by his given name, he would come here every Thursday for a drink with the one and only Anakin Skywalker. 

The Republic hadn’t been perfect, it was a gang like any other, but it had better bones, better purpose. He had believed in what they were doing for New York, cleaning up the streets, bolstering the economy. They ran the bars, the schools, the banks… You name it and they ran it. The city had been theirs. Then one of their own turned on them, helped a fledgling gang rise up and destroy what they had been. Men came in the night, knew passwords only one of their own could know. New York burned that night, buildings turned to ash and corporations crumbled from within. It had been thoroughly planned, even the teenagers at the bottom of their ranks slaughtered by sharp saber knives. Knives of the Jedi, the elite enforcers of the Republic, had been used to slaughter everyone that Obi-Wan had ever loved. 

Except the two of them. His apprentice and his apprentice’s apprentice. They live on in the darkness now, robbed of morality and the light that The Republic provided. It is something he prefers not to think about except on Thursday nights at two in the morning. Or Friday morning, whichever is preferred. He never thinks about them fondly unless he’s alone like this, in ways that aren’t righteous fury and resentment. Anakin and Ahsoka go by different names in their new Empire, but he knows they are still them. They chose to leave him, to abandon him for power. They tried to kill him. 

He fingers the scar on his chest, right over the general area of his heart where Ahsoka’s bullet pierced him during his saber fight with Anakin in Jersey. He wrinkles his nose, disgusted for a moment. Nothing good ever happens in New Jersey. That’s where the Empire has set up headquarters, he knows, in a large weapons factory just outside of the city in East Rutherford. He gulps down the rest of his gin and drops the glass on the bar top. The tender looks up, raising an eyebrow before he walks over and collects the glass. 

The bar is illegal, prohibition rampant in New York, and he is a man of the law, but he can’t bring himself to betray the last piece of his life with Anakin. So the gin it is. He smiles, nodding his head as he takes the glass from the tender and holds it up in a salute. The man smiles back at him. It isn’t the same man that served he and Anakin for years, it isn’t even the same business, more of a speakeasy nowadays. Obi-Wan places the now refilled glass down on the table and places his head in his hands. Han Solo, his recently acquired partner of four weeks is another trouble on his mind. 

Han is with the Skywalker twins. Luke and Leia, children of the most ruthless man in New York City. He’s never had the pleasure of knowing them personally, but he means what he said to Han. He loves those kids, loves them like they’re his own because their Anakin’s and Anakin… Well Obi-Wan doesn’t really have a term to describe what Anakin is to him. It’s against the church to be with a man in that way and Obi-Wan once considered himself a man of God. Anakin is the closest thing Obi-Wan ever had to a spouse though, of that Obi-Wan is absolutely sure. 

Han is a sure thing, he feels. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and he cares greatly for the twins already, no matter how dangerous that is for himself. He is used to crime and villainy in a way the twins aren’t and will be an important ally for them in the upcoming months if they are to dethrone the Empire together. They will need Han for when he and Ben dethrone Anakin and hopefully end the crime underground of New York once and for all. 

A body sits in the chair next to him, but he doesn’t look up. He’s got a good buzz going, a haze over the most painful of his thoughts and memories that keep him from breaking down. He wishes he were still alone, but he figures it’s not that big of a deal to sit with a stranger for one night. 

“Fancy meeting you here, _Ben,_ ” he hears a familiar voice say and stiffens. He slowly raises his head, picks up his drink and downs it in one go, slamming the glass down harshly. He doesn’t look his guest in the eyes as he wipes his mouth with his forearm and stands. He throws a couple of generous bills down on the top and spins on his heel, not once looking at the man. 

“Ben, wait,” he calls and Obi-Wan doesn’t stop, shoving some poor random bird out of his way as he goes. The man chasing him has tried to hurt him before and further contact before he’s behind bars is a very terrible idea. 

_“Obi-Wan!”_ He freezes, knowing having that name associated with him anymore is also very dangerous. He spins back, finally looking Anakin in the eyes for the first time since he left him to die. 

“Surprised to see me, Darth?” He asks and Anakin huffs a sigh, catching his breath after running after Obi-Wan. The man quirks an eyebrow, a mockingly amused half grin appearing on his face. 

“Obviously not since I found you.” Vader’s face is older than Anakin’s had been the last time Obi-Wan really examined it. There is a new scar on his cheek that Obi-Wan almost wants to stroke and caress like he did all of Anakin’s other scars. 

“Touching, but I rather thought you wished me dead. Why the pleasantries? Why the bar?” They sound so much like who they used to be, but they aren’t those people any longer. They stare at each other for a moment and he watches Anakin’s too blue eyes scan his being as well. Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed how close they were until Vader’s caressing his cheek, his gaze boring down into what feels like Obi-Wan’s very soul.

“Forgive me, Doll, I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I never meant to hurt you.” Obi-Wan scoffs before Vader finishes saying the words. 

“How can you say that? You promised to kill me that day and you left me to _die_ ,” he gasps, feeling as though he can’t breathe. Vader’s face twitches, a well-known look of sorrow overcoming his features as he stares at the man who used to be at his side through it all. 

_“I’m sorry,”_ he whispers quiet as the wind, but Obi-Wan is distracted by the sound of distant sirens quickly approaching. He glances back at Anakin. 

“Obi-Wan, please just listen to me. The Empire could use you on board and I miss you. I miss you so much.” A single tear falls down Vader’s cheek and Obi-Wan catches it with his thumb without thinking, brushing it away. His words sober him though and Obi-Wan sighs, detaching himself from the man he cares for most. 

“You’ve become a high cat, Darth, and I a man on the run. We may have belonged in each other’s worlds once upon a time, but you sought a life free from me. You obtained it. Congratulations,” he finally utters and he doesn’t look at Anakin when he says it. To do so would pain him more than he’s willing to admit. The sirens are only growing louder the more that time passes. Vader places a hand on Ben’s shoulder and suddenly, out on the streets, they no longer feel like Anakin and Obi-Wan. 

“A man on the run?” Very well, I shall turn you in then,” he gestures over towards where the police have just passed them. Obi-Wan suddenly knows where they’re going, knows what Vader has done and he takes off. He rounds the corner again, just in time to see the speakeasy busted. In the background of the night he can hear the clock chime three times and feels the air leave his lungs in shock. 

_“Why?”_ He asks, turning around to find Vader lounging against the wall, a cigarette between his teeth. Obi-Wan knows he won’t light it, he’s always hated the things, so he wonders why it’s there’s now. Vader tilts his head, that half grin reappearing as he reenters Obi-Wan’s personal space. 

“You know, you’re supposed to have aged in my absence. Instead, here you are twenty-three years later and you remind me of my past so much it hurts a bit,” he declares, wrapping his large hand around Obi-Wan’s own and pressing it against his heart. Obi-Wan scoffs, looking back at the speakeasy as it’s raided. The bartender is being dragged out in handcuffs and he goes to yank his hand away from Vader, but the man’s grip has locked. 

“Your hair, I don’t like it,” he finds himself saying instead of running, “the slicked back look hides your curls.” He reaches a hand up and dents the look, pulling the thickly stuck pieces apart. Vader’s grip slackens as he does it in surprise. Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to rear his other fist into Vader’s cheek. The man falls back before cackling, picking himself up off the ground. He spits out the now chewed cigarette.

“Your juice joint is in a panic and for someone on the lam I can’t imagine why you would be so quick to run into a crime scene,” Vader deduces and Obi-Wan realizes what a fool he’s been. Vader started out by calling him Ben, he knows his alias. Leave it to Anakin to throw him off of his game. 

“I-“ He’s cut off by a harsh kiss and he gasps in surprise, but Vader pulls away. His harsh gaze bores down on Obi-Wan again and Obi-Wan feels off-balance. He feels as though he’s going to die at any moment. A car screeches to a halt in front of them. 

_“Hey, Boss! We gotta get outta here!”_ A familiar female voice calls and when Obi-Wan looks at the car he sees familiar almost neon blue eyes staring at him. His knees grow weaker, but Vader keeps him steady. 

“I’m coming, Snips, stay in the car,” he orders and Obi-Wan doesn’t remember him ever speaking to her so coldly. He figures they have a history he could never understand after twenty-three years of separation from them. 

Vader’s too blue eyes find Obi-Wan’s again and he feels like the air is sucked straight from his lungs for the thousandth time this night. 

“I burned the joint because its time to find a future together, Ben. We can’t if you live in the past,” Vader walks over to the car and opens a door before turning back. “Think about what I’ve said, Detective Kenobi, I’ll be seeing you _very_ soon.” He climbs in and the door slams shut, the car speeding off. 

Suddenly, Obi-Wan is alone in the night, watching the last of his past burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! we met Vader! thank you for reading and please please please let me know what you think of it!


	3. Chapter 3

Han is picking his teeth with a toothpick when Chewie plops down next to him in another chair. Han nods his head in acknowledgement, the toothpick hanging out of his mouth. Chewbacca grumbles, offering Han a cigar between two fingers. Han shakes his head, knowing that Luke hates them, especially when they’re smoked inside the building. 

“Maybe later?” He asks and Chewie nods, putting the cigar back inside of his coat. Han smiles gratefully, knowing his desire to quit was entirely fueled by the boy with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. He grumbles, wondering if ten in the morning is too early to stumble over to the bar and make himself a gin on the rocks. Next to him, Chewie gives him a look. 

Han knows his drinking problem is as bad as his smoking one. One demon at a time. He shakes his head again, telling Chewie to leave it alone. The other man just shrugs at him and Han lifts his mouth into a half smile. He appreciates Chewie’s companionship while he’s here, he really does. He hasn’t seen the kid or his sister for over a week. Hasn’t seen them since he saved Leia’s life and then fainted. Ben has missed their usual drinking dates for the last couple of days, making Han feel overly suspicious. What if Ben has been compromised? What if Vader got him?

“Mr. Solo,” Wedge says his name close to his ear, startling Han so much he shoots up, rounding on the man quickly. Next to him, Chewbacca rumbles deeply, something Han knows to be a chuckle by this point. He glares down at his friend for a moment before turning the look to Wedge, whose grin says he enjoyed scaring Han immensely. 

“Ha ha ha, yak it up. What do you want?” Wedge’s features fall back into their usual annoyed expression and he steps back, gesturing towards Luke’s office. Han looks at the ornate door with the unique carvings that he has been staring at for days, suddenly afraid of what lurks behind it. 

“The boss wants you, Solo. Best to not keep him waiting,” he chuckles, nearly skipping away from Han in glee. Han stares after him like a deer caught in headlights. He only stumbles towards where he knows Luke is when Chewbacca knocks him forward. He moves quickly, knowing that hesitation is weak and he’s done enough of that already. Han… _passed._ He passed Luke’s test, of that he is sure. So why is he nervous?

He opens the door, twisting the knob and waltzing in with his best false bravado. Behind the desk is Luke, but his head is down as if he may be sleeping. Han quietly shuts the door and approaches his still form. He sits across from Luke, who still hasn’t budged, and looks at him. His face is so young, so innocent in sleep. His eyelashes delicately drape across his cheek bones and his hair appears so soft. Han reaches a hand out, brushing his fingers through the softness. Luke catches his hand, lifting his head with a small smile. He brings Han’s hand to his lips before releasing it. 

Shocked, all Han can do is stare at Luke with wide doe eyes. 

“Hello, Mr. Solo. Have you gotten yourself acquainted with the others and the building?” Luke is all business, letting go of the softness he held a minute ago. Han smiles his best cocky grin and shrugs. 

“I suppose,” he concedes and Luke chuckles. Luke stands, moving around his desk and over to a large portrait on the wall. Han… Han almost recognizes one of the four people in the photograph. On one end, with a beard and well-groomed hair, stands a man in a long coat and a fancy shirt. He is clearly smiling in it and Han can tell from where he now stands near Luke’s desk that the man has blue eyes. The others are distinctive as well, but Han doesn’t know them. Not the way he knows the man. 

There are two women in the middle. Now that Han is looking, one is clearly the current mayor of New York. _Manhattan_ , anyway. Her name is Padmé Amidala and her beauty is as apparent in present times as it was whenever this picture was taken. The other woman is black to his surprise. He has no issue with it, has many black friends himself from growing up in poorer neighborhoods, but she is gorgeous. Her eyes are a striking blue as well, most uncommon among black women, and her hair is braided in the picture. She appears to be younger than the other three, but not by too much. Han admires the quiet strength that visibly resides in her muscles even in photograph form. 

On the other end is another man. This one has longer hair, but it’s slicked back. A unique scar cuts over his eyebrow, his features strong yet delicate. The man is pretty, but Han can tell he’s incredibly dangerous from where he stands. The man’s smile is dangerous, the kind that threatens lives with its very appearance. He looks a bit like Luke, but much larger. 

“This is my father on the end, Darth Vader,” Luke says and Han looks at him. The man in the photograph looks like Luke because it’s his father, the man who destroyed the city they live in. Darth Vader doesn’t look how Han would expect and yet he can see it when he l3ooks at the picture. The cocky arrogance in his stance, the harsh, wolfish grin… He can see where Darth Vader came from in this young man. 

“And the others?” Han questions, wanting to know why he recognizes the other man in this picture. 

“Well this woman is the mayor… And this one is like an Aunt to me. Her name is Ahsoka, my father’s right hand,” Luke explains and Han now sees the way Ahsoka is standing close to Anakin in almost a protective way. He wants to know more about their dynamic, especially since it seems it was never romantic, but decides to not pry. He doesn’t want to appear too nosy in front of Luke. 

“…And this man is named Obi-Wan Kenobi. He wasn’t around when I was growing up, but he used to be my father’s best friend. They were partners,” Luke continues, unaware of Han’s inner thoughts. Han startles at the name, quickly looking back at the younger version of Ben. He looks so happy, carefree in a way Han has never seen in their many meetings. He’s gotten to know the sad man that lives within the shell that once was Obi-Wan Kenobi, but he can recognize now that he really is a shell. 

The man in the photograph, the man with a genuine smile on his face and his arm around Padmé, is an actual person with an actual life. The man who visits Han is the remains of that man that were left when his “best friend” stabbed him in the back. Han wants to ask how Luke has this picture, but he must have stolen it. Han can’t imagine Darth Vader wanting such an image out of his possession, especially if it contains the people he used to love and the man he used to be. Han looks at the boy in front of him, the one with enthusiasm and optimism unlike anything he’s seen before. 

Luke stole it because it gives him hope, obviously. Hope to return things to the way they once were and restore the happiness that once existed for the people who live in this city. Han smiles at the younger man when Luke gives him his full attention again, still standing near the picture that holds such a place of honor in his office.

“Due to your success in saving Leia, Mr. Solo, I’d like to give you your first real mission,” he says and Han finds himself nodding, locking gazes with the Ben inside of the picture. He will find Ben if he doesn’t show up tonight, deciding something is wrong. 

“You will protect the mayor during the next couple of months. She has become a target for the Empire throughout this Prohibition time we find ourselves in. Make sure she stays alive and your place within our ranks will be solidified permanently,” Luke says and Han nods again. Wait, _what?_

“The mayor?” He questions, wondering why this mission wasn’t given to someone like Wedge who Luke knew better. Who Luke _trusted._

Luke places a hand on Han’s cheek, smiling up at him with an infectious, hopeful grin. 

“I don’t know what it is about you, Han Solo. What it is that draws me in the way you do… But I trust you. Don’t let me down,” he whispers, making eye contact until it just begins to be uncomfortable before turning away and walking back to his chair behind his desk. Back to where they are safely separated. Han feels like he’s out of breath although he has performed no strenuous activity. 

“You are dismissed,” Luke declares and Han finds himself nearly running from the room. His mind is caught up in images of Ben, Vader, and most of all Luke. 

 

 

 

 

Ben went underground after Vader found him the previous week, needing to be careful. If Vader had found him, there was no telling how long the man had been watching him for. Did he know where Luke and Leia were? Did he know about Han? Ben had been wracking his brain for the week in his own tiny apartment in the corner of Manhattan. He didn’t want to be found, but he knew he’d have to see Han soon. If he didn’t the boy would get suspicious. The last thing Ben needs is Han backing out of their deal. He needs the twins safe and he’s grown to be fond of the boy.

He’s waiting of course for Vader’s impatience to get the best of him like it always does. It could be any minute, hour, or day, but he will come. He always comes. Anakin never had any impulse control and neither does Vader. It seems some things never change. Ben smiles ruefully, bitterly remembering all the things he had lost.

It’s been a week, the amount of time Anakin used to give him before he shoved past Ahsoka who would urge him to be patient and come banging on Ben’s door. He figures if there’s a time to place money on Anakin arriving, tonight would be his best bet. He knows that Anakin isn’t really there though and Vader is much different than what Ben can remember about Anakin Skywalker. 

After all, is Ben not a completely different person? He can’t even bare to hear his old name out loud. He burned everything that used to be Obi-Wan Kenobi and left New York for fifteen years to regain himself. He went to rural upstate, to a lake house in the mountains where it was just him for a long long time. Then, on the eve of when Anakin would turn 38 and have been running his new business for over a decade, he returned home. He needed to destroy all that his best friend had done to the city in his absence. 

So he sold the lake house to a woman who owned a run down diner and her young children for almost nothing, taking the small sum and buying an apartment. After that he had contacted an old friend for a job within the city. Here he is, five years later. A detective with a tiny apartment who spies on his former best friend and lover’s children with the help of a petty thief while trying to expose Anakin for the monster he is. 

He hasn’t even seen Padmé to thank her, too afraid of what it would feel like to see her again. He knows the truth they never told him, understands the burden and the horror she has experienced more than anyone. He supposes he may have never forgiven her for keeping it a secret in the first place. 

Deep down though, he can’t blame her for loving him. Ben had loved him too when he still considered himself that man. Fifteen years of solitude erased that though, leaving behind a bitterness and an unforgiving need for retribution. So although he still thinks of himself as Obi-Wan most of the time, he knows that man is dead. _Just like Anakin Skywalker._

The knock on the door startles him and he knows he was right. He’s always been good at guessing what Anakin will do. Except for one glaring exception of course. 

“It’s open,” he shouts and hears the knob twist and the door swing open. He hears the loud clanking steps of Anakin Skywalker, a very distinctive sound in Ben’s ears. 

“Hello, Anakin,” he greets and hears the man suck in a breath in shock. He doesn’t know how long it has been since someone called the man by his true name, but he knows it is overdue. Anakin and his flights of fancy have been running wild for far too long, it’s time for Obi-Wan to reign him in. 

_“Don’t,”_ Anakin warns, his voice deadly and low, “Don’t call me that. You won’t like my response.” At this, Obi-Wan chuckles outright, surprising his companion. 

“If I am to be called Obi-Wan I find it only fitting to call you by Anakin. Are we not pretending all is well between us? Ben and Vader don’t know each other,” he brushes away Anakin’s anger, unconcerned about it. Anakin can throw a fit if he wants. He can wrap his hands around Obi-Wan’s neck until he passes out. Obi-Wan is not Padmé, he won’t beg for Anakin’s love and forgiveness. 

Not when the only thing he owes Anakin is a swift kick between the legs. 

“Ben, then. We will progress onward instead of into the pass. You will refer to me as Vader and I will refer to you as Ben,” he concedes and Ben nods, taking it for what it is. They acknowledge that they don’t quite know each other anymore at the very least. “So, Ben, why did you come back?” Ben looks up at Vader with narrow eyes. 

“Where I went or why I’m back is none of your business. And if you force me to answer, I’ll have to start asking questions like what happened to your marriage? Your wife? Could she not forgive the horrors you inflicted upon innocent people?” Obi-Wan knows its a deep cut, but to his surprise Vader just laughs. He throws his head back, his long hair moving with the effort. 

“Go ahead and ask, Ben. Or better yet, I’ll just tell you. When I made my grab for power I knew my relationship with Padmé was over, but she wasn’t a threat. It took her almost twenty years to become mayor and she’ll never be anything more with me in power,” Vader laughs cruelly at that, “But what did it matter? All I wanted from Padmé was kids. She was useless after that.” Obi-Wan’s eyes must be wide as saucers by now. He had always figured Anakin was talked into making the grab for power by his good friend Governor Palpatine who was still in office. Instead, Obi-Wan hadn’t been giving Vader enough credit. Vader had planned his takeover thoroughly, it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. 

“I was under the assumption you loved her? And that she lost the babies?” Ben is trying to wrap his head around everything, but nothing makes any sense. Vader is looking at him curiously now and bit sadly. 

“Until the twins were born she had to think I loved her. …Which meant you had to think I loved her… When the only person I loved was _you,_ ” he breaks up his sentences oddly, almost like he’s phrasing them in the form of an apology. Eventually his eyes harden again though, “And don’t pretend you don’t know about my children. The public may believe Padmé lost the baby, but I know you’re not dumb enough to. You know exactly who they are.” Ben rolls his eyes at the end of Vader’s statement. The man has always been overly dramatic. He offers the man the seat next to him, taking the glass he had brought over earlier and pouring Anakin some gin. The younger man wrinkles his nose. 

“You know I don’t like gin, Old Man,” Anakin teases and Obi-Wan feels an age old ache in his heart that he knows will last far too long. Anakin had always loved him most, even back then. _He loved him._ Yes, Anakin had loved Obi-Wan and deep down, Obi-Wan had known that, stung by rejection and betrayal as he had been at the time. His love for Obi-Wan didn’t stop him from planning what he did though, and it certainly didn’t stop him from going through with it. 

“I know, but humor me,” he chuckles, hearing the audible strain in his voice, “Where’s our child?” It is an old nickname and he freezes as he says it, but Anakin only smiles a megawatt grin, launching from the chair and opening the door. He whistles and Ben can hear a car door open. Of course she’s here, it wouldn’t be a reunion without her. 

Ahsoka Tano slips into his small apartment and oh my, she’s _grown._ The seventeen year old he left behind with Anakin was now almost Anakin’s height, much taller than himself. He gapes, even as Ahsoka moves to give him a hug. Vader thankfully stops her. She glares up at Vader for a moment, snippy as ever, before seeing his hard gaze and lowering her own. 

Ah, so Anakin had tamed her after all. Ben doesn’t want to think of what that had entailed. His pseudo-daughter peaks up at him with a genuine smile, giving him a small wave. He can’t help but smile back at her. For all he knows that she is an adult and stays with Anakin by choice, carrying out his dark wishes, he can’t help it. He loves her. Even now. 

Anakin takes his seat again, leaving Ahsoka to lean against the wall. 

“Here, Young One, take my seat, I have no problem standing,” Ben offers and she smiles brilliantly, but she shakes her head and gestures to Vader who sits with a scowl, implying that Obi-Wan may want to pay attention. 

“We’ve come to offer you a place among our ranks,” Vader states and that’s it, that’s all he says, but he watches Obi-Wan’s face for any potential reaction with a look of what must be hope. For a moment, the possibility plays through his head; him and Anakin together again, Ahsoka as his friend, the twins returned to their father- Obi-Wan sputters, eyes falling on his detective badge across the room, reminding himself that as nice as that may be for him, he must find justice for the innocents Anakin refused to spare everyday. He must protect the twins and Han.

“Where was this offer twenty-three years ago? Where was this declaration of love? In any case, it’s too late. I will not serve your corrupt desires,” he says and pours himself more gin, quickly drinking it and pouring more. Of course Anakin is here for that. He’d never once considered how Obi-Wan must’ve felt about everything. He looks up to see Ahsoka frown and shake her head, leaving the apartment to return to the car. He wants to reach out, to beg for her to stay, but he knows if she’s willingly leaving, Anakin ordered her out. He doesn’t look at the man next to him. 

“You will change your minds eventually, Ben. You and the twins will be returned to me... _Whether you like it or not,_ ” Vader hisses, his voice dangerously close to Obi-Wan’s ear. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hand around the glass of gin in his hands, knowing it might break and not caring. 

When he finally opens his eyes, the love of his life is gone and so is his pseudo-daughter, his door wide open. He gasps for air in relief and lets the tears leak down his face. As much as he misses his family, somethings just can’t be sacrificed for love. 

 

 

 

 

Padmé Amidala is Leia Skywalker, of this Han is sure. The way the woman talks, the way she walks, the way she argues, and especially her face. Leia is the spitting image of the woman almost to a T. Well, no actually, Leia’s temper has to come from her father because even in the midst of utter idiocy and hypocrisy, Amidala keeps her cool. In fact, in terms of personality, Padmé’s calm disposition and friendliness remind Han of Luke. Is it possible? Could the sky twins really be the product of Mayor Amidala and Darth Vader? It seems pretty far fetched, but then again, the proof seems to be staring him in the face. 

He’ll have to ask Ben at some point. If the man ever comes back that is. 

“And who might you be?” The Mayor asks and Han ducks his head respectfully. He knows that she fought tooth and nail for this position and gives her the respect she’s owed. It can’t be easy being a woman in such tumultuous political times. Han might be from Brooklyn, but he isn’t unaware of the situation in Manhattan. She’s facing immense pressure from all sides. 

“Han Solo from The Rebellion, Ma’am,” he greets and she stiffens, pulling him aside. 

“I cannot have any know alliances with gangs within my city, do you understand?” She glares up at him from her tiny frame and Han nods, feeling the same respect for Padmé that he had immediately felt for Leia, “From here on out you are my security. I will get you a badge.” Padmé nods then, both to him and herself, before gesturing to Han to follow her. 

“Tell me, how are the troublesome twins?” She phrases it nonchalantly, but Han sees the burning need to know under her facade. He almost wants to inform the spunky woman that he is an expert at people and expressions, but he keeps it to himself. His skill set is already being used to both serve The Rebellion and to protect it’s leadership, it was under enough stress already. 

“They’re well, I’d assume. They haven’t said otherwise,” Han says and it’s to himself mainly, but Padmé accepts it as an answer. Han will watch her for the day, keep track of her odd similarities to the twins and admits to himself that he could be wrong. 

Padmé Amidala may not be their mother. It’s not like such a thing can be proven either way.

“That’s great… They deserve to be happy and out from under their father’s thumb,” she admits and Han’s eyes widen. Of course he knew Darth Vader or rather Anakin Skywalker had known Padmé once upon a time, he just didn’t expect her to be so candid with him. It was like a breath of fresh air. 

And the total honesty is _completely _Leia.__

____

____

“That’s something we can agree on,” he says and the woman smiles back at him. He knows that his time with Padmé won’t be awful. The woman is bright and sharp, her mind a maze Han would never be able to solve. He smiles genuinely down at the twin’s mother, knowing that protecting them now means protecting her. Luke had personally sent him after all. 

He wonders if the younger man has any idea of who this woman might be. He must. Anybody that knew Leia and saw Padmé would see the resemblance. If the two women were to stand next to each other… Han now sees why Vader kept his twins the best kept secret in New York City. He clearly wanted the mother out of the picture so he could raise the twins on his own. 

…But _why?_

Han would figure it out. 

Han is happy when she is finally safe within her very expensive apartment in Manhattan, looking forward to tracking Ben down and having a long talk. He exits the expensive building, ready to make the long walk back to where he can catch the train to Brooklyn and hopefully find Ben sitting in his apartment. 

He groans as the familiar car pulls up beside him. Wedge Antilles just opens the door this time, not even asking or threatening Han to get in. The newfound silent animosity must be his welcome gift from the man as Han has officially joined the family. He tips his hat Wedge’s way. Wedge grunts in response, lighting his cigarette and puffing smoke into the space between them. 

They pull up to the building and Wedge doesn’t get out, just once again opens the door and ushers Han out. Han stands outside of the doors as the black car once again peals away from the curb and rumbles off into the night. 

_Great, there goes my ride,_ he thinks bitterly. 

He enters, going up to Luke’s office. He knows that he’s been summoned and he’d like to be annoyed, but he can’t. It’s _Luke._ He can’t be mad at Luke. He twists the handle, once again walking into the belly of the beast and ducks when a paperweight flies past his head, shattering against the wall. He looks up startled and remains that way as Luke tosses his body against Han’s, burying his face in the crook of Han’s neck.

Hesitantly, Han brings his hand up to soothe the younger man, rubbing circles into his back. Luke hiccups after a few moments, pulling away to reveal that he’s blushing. The tinge of red on his cheeks is adorable and Han leans in, brushing a finger across Luke’s pink cheekbone. The color deepens. 

A newspaper Han didn’t even realize Luke had been holding is dropped at his feet. There, gracing headlines, is a picture of Luke himself from a few years back. 

“My father has declared war,” Luke snarls and Han stares at the paper in shock. There is a picture of a priest Han recognizes as the one always in the press. The main catholic priest in all of Manhattan. Standing next to none other than Darth Vader himself. 

“Kid,” Han soothes, trying to move back into Luke’s personal space, “this is _nothing._ It’s _okay! It doesn’t mean anything!” Han knows he’s lying, knows how much the church means to Luke. It was the one constant in Luke’s loony childhood. That and the fact that the boy played baseball at his father’s demand._

__

__

There in big letters, the print has damned them all to hell. Literally. The headline reads: Catholic Church Condemns The Rebellion. Luke is still hissing from the other side of the office. Eventually, the boy sags against the wall, the room thoroughly destroyed. His shelves are crippled, papers flying everywhere. The boy’s hair flies in all directions. 

God, Han wants to kiss him. 

Instead, he picks up one of the things Luke threw off his desk and replaces it. 

“What are you doing here, Han? I requested to be alone.” Luke has his head in his hands and he peaks through his fingers up at Han. Han is thrown for a minute. Hadn’t he been requested? Wedge had… Wedge had come and got him so he could comfort Luke? Without Luke asking?

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he just pours Luke a cup of gin from the cart in the corner and brings it to him. 

“This’ll clear all your blues, Kid,” he promises, “too bad you don’t keep ice in here.” Luke chuckles and lets the subject drop. Han knows he isn’t going home tonight. He knows he and Luke will spend the night talking and tomorrow Chewie will have to accompany him so he doesn’t sabotage the Mayor’s safety. Tonight though… Tonight he slides down the wall next to Luke who cradles his gin like a baby and sips his own warm gin quietly. 

He’s content there, for once. He’s content next to Luke. 

Luke smiles, sipping the gin before making face. 

"You know I don't like gin, Old Man," he giggles and Han leans in closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been a while, but i hope it's worth the wait! thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

“Where have you been?” He asks as he enters his apartment the next evening. Last night with Luke had been an ordeal, the boy hiccuping through the pain and hurt his father had caused him. Han knows it was a power move by Vader, hoping to lure the twins back into his grasp. Ben holds the same newspaper out to him and Han just nods, knowing what the headline says and the nasty article that resides on the publication’s front page. 

“I’ve been hiding. I had an encounter with the dark lord and decided to lay low in case he had people watching me,” Ben reveals and _shit._ Han had feared such a thing since Ben disappeared. He sucks in a deep breath, walking into the kitchen and pouring them both some gin. He has no ice, so he just hands Ben the glass. The man tips it back in Han’s direction in thanks as Han settles beside him. 

“So, is it safe to be here now?” Han asks and Ben’s lips purse as the man thinks. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in a week. Han doesn’t blame him. If he ever ran into the devil himself he’d be scared to leave the house too. Ben though… Ben _knew_ Vader, had even loved him once. This must be so much worse for him. 

“Probably not, but I had to come. This article is bad and if Vader has been watching me as long as I think he has then he already knows about you,” the man admits and Han groans, taking a large gulp of the nasty liquid. 

“Fuckin’ _fantastic_ ,” Han mumbles and Ben places an apologetic hand on his shoulder. Han knew he was going to be dragged into this eventually when Luke first approached him about joining leagues with them. Han is closely linked to both of the twins and to Ben… Of course he has Vader’s attention. 

“If it makes you feel better, he hasn’t threatened you yet,” Ben offers and Han huffs out a laugh, That is really very reassuring. Totally. Still, Han finishes his glass and decides he’s done for the night, placing it on the table between them. 

“Wonderful,” Han mumbles before remembering what he’d wanted to ask the man, “Hey, Ben. What do you know about a relationship between Mayor Amidala and Darth Daddy-O?” Ben’s eyes widen and in them is a pain so old Han wishes he had said nothing at all. Ben lifts his glass to his lips, taking the biggest sip Han has ever seen him take and his fingers shake as he places it still half full next to Han’s empty glass. Ben’s wide eyes turn to look at him and he opens his mouth before closing it and swallowing again. 

_“Ani!” Obi-Wan watches the young woman toss herself at his… At his partner. His heart lurches in his chest as he witnesses Anakin lift her up and spin her around, planting a big kiss on her lips._

_“Oh, Padmé,” Anakin breathes, the gentle way he says her name so different than how he says Obi-Wan’s even in their most intimate moments, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Obi-Wan picks his head up, finding his friend Quinlan across the room. He makes haste, not needing his heart broken any further. He feels guilty eyes on his retreating back, but he can’t think about them now._

_He’s an idiot for ever thinking Anakin was his. Of course he loves the beautiful politician more than he loves Obi-Wan. It's only logic._

“They were a couple,” he blurts out, forcing himself out of the assaulting reverie. He doesn’t need to reminisce on things that only hurt him further. Han nods, thinking he should’ve assumed that with the way Leia and Luke are. They’re their kids. Its pretty much confirmed now. Still, Han had thought Ben and Vader had been a thing. 

“He had both of us pinned under his thumb. He claims it was always me and that Padmé only happened so he could have kids. I-,” Ben breathes and Han swears there’s tears in his eyes for a moment, “I think he loved her. He won’t admit it now. I know he loved me… But I think he loved her too.” So, Amidala _is_ their mother. Han knows Ben is in pain, he can see it on his face and he understands. He loved Vader and Vader loved him, but his loyalties clearly were with himself. He loved Ben, he loved Padmé, but he loved himself the most. Han places a hand on Ben’s shoulder to remind himself not to get lost in the memories, knowing that this is hard for the man to recount. Ben looks at him and for a moment, Han sees the man from Luke’s photograph. His pain is so raw it could’ve happened yesterday. 

In retrospect Han figures Ben did see Vader yesterday. Old feelings are probably resurfacing. 

“Was he the type of person to use a woman like that?” He asks and Ben’s face creases in denial and anger. It’s on the tip of his tongue, Han can tell, but the man doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

“When he was Anakin, he was more than my best friend. He was my everything. I was both his mentor and his partner… In more ways than one,” he says and Han gags on air. Ben rolls his eyes and swats at him playfully. Han isn’t sure when they became friends, but they are. Ben’s disappearance made Han realize he cares about the old fossil. They were a team now. 

“Anyway,” Ben continues dramatically, “I loved him. I can admit that now that years have passed and he is no longer that man. To answer your question though… If you had asked me that even six months ago I would’ve sworn that Anakin would never have done such a thing.” Ben stands, taking his glass and filling it to the brim not with gin this time, but whiskey. Han has a feeling he will be sharing his mattress tonight with the older man. Or maybe he should just let Ben have it and take the couch.

“Anakin Skywalker was my everything and to think that he bamboozled me so thoroughly hurts. I have always placed a lot of the blame on Governor Palpatine for filling his head with fancy ideas. Now however, I know Anakin planned a lot of it and wanted the Jedi gone. He could’ve done it,” he admits to Han like it is his greatest secret and Han figures it probably is. Ben approaches their set up again, plopping down in the chair. Han thinks about the wonderful twins, about how they must be only the best parts of the man Ben describes. Ben loved Anakin and Han can see why if the man is as magnetic as his children. 

“I know now that Vader is a monster that Anakin became over time. He stole those children from their mother and blackmailed her into secrecy and a life without her family. He was always that monster, Han, he just hid it from those who were important to him so well we didn’t know. _I didn’t know._ ” That’s it, Han can tell. That’s as much memory as Ben can handle and Han doesn’t want to overwhelm the older man. Clearly, this tale is wild and crushing. Whatever happened to end the Jedi so completely destroyed Obi-Wan, creating Ben. 

_“You may recognize me from my days with The Republic. My name back then was Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Han chokes-_

Han remembers the night he met this strange old man who had become his friend. 

“Ben, I-“ He starts to speak, to respond to Ben’s tale, but the man lifts a hand to interrupt him. 

“Call me Obi-Wan. I have to stop running from my past and lying to myself about who Anakin is. About who he probably has always been,” he asks and Han nods, looking at the man with wide eyes. 

“Obi-Wan, then. I can do that,” he offers and Ben offers him a smile in response. It’s all Han’s going to get for now and they lapse into comfortable silence, Ben eventually getting more whiskey and pouring Han some. they sip idly and eventually talk about the twins for a bit. 

“Come on then, Obi-Wan,” Han ushers him up to his feet, the man wobbling dangerously, “to the bed you go.” Han deposits his friend on the mattress, going back to the kitchen and leaving the older man a glass of water next to his makeshift bed. He returns to his living room, laying down on his too small couch and looking out at the city beyond. Buildings tower above him and he wonders how all of these big things can be affected by such little creatures. 

His eyes eventually close and he hopes he dreams of Luke tonight. 

 

 

 

 

Vader sits in a car across the street from where Obi-Wan had entered a rundown building earlier. Vader is no fool, he knows Obi-Wan has a new friend that he visits here. The question is why he’s there in the first place. He’s been here all night and it’s nearing three in the morning and no one has emerged. 

The passenger door opens across from him, Ahsoka sliding into the car. She smiles a harsh grin his way, all shark attitude. Vader looks over at her and snatches the document she holds in her hands. She had gone inside to look around, trying to see if they could find out who Obi-Wan is visiting. 

_“Han Solo,”_ Vader reads through clenched teeth. He owns the apartment on the top floor, a small attic of a place. He’s in his late twenties and a petty criminal who steals for a living. An irishman from Brooklyn if Ahsoka’s information is to be believed. 

“Obi-Wan has been visiting him for months according to the visitors log that the building owner keeps. It’s a shitty place, but hey everyone’s gotta live somewhere,” she shrugs, lighting up a cigarette next to him. He wrinkles his nose, she knows he hates those things. Vader’s anger peaks after a moment. Why is Obi-Wan visiting this Han Solo?

“Is that all we know on him?” He questions and she chuckles, pulling the death stick from between her lips and releasing the smoke into the air. He growls low in his throat, annoyed at her attitude this late in the evening. He’d like to go home and sleep if its at all possible. 

“No, actually. He has been spotted with someone very interesting multiple times in recent months,” she admits, her humor at the situation clearly evident. Vader has had enough. 

“Who? Ahsoka, I warn you I am not in the mood this evening for such games,” he threatens and the girl puts her hands up in surrender. She was just enjoying some of the irony of the situation, it’s not her fault Vader found nothing funny anymore since his kids abandoned the throne. 

“Chewbacca,” she says and Vader bangs his head on the steering wheel. Of course Han Solo is connected to his children and their pathetic rebellious group. There is no other reason Obi-Wan would be in his apartment. None at all. 

_Except, Obi-Wan’s always liked scoundrels,_ his traitorous brain supplies and Vader snarls again under his breath. 

“At least you know it’s not a sex thing now,” Ahsoka says with a shrug and Vader chuckles darkly. If it had been a sex thing, Han Solo would be dead the second he left his apartment. Still, his presence irks Vader in ways he dislikes. This man, this nobody, is close with his children and with Obi-Wan. He has the things Vader wants and doesn’t have. 

“If it was you’d be killing him at daybreak as soon as Obi-Wan left,” Vader tells her and she huffs at his drama, rolling her eyes but nodding as well. He knows she figured as much. No, Vader will allow Han Solo to live because he’s curious as to the part he plays in all of this. Who is he to the twins? Who is he to Obi-Wan?

He could be a very good bargaining chip should the situation arise and he could also be swayed easily Vader figures. He’s a petty thief, it’s not like he has a loyal bone in his body. Ahsoka places her feet up on the dash as Vader pulls away from the curb, content to leave now that he knows Obi-Wan is still his. 

“You know, Master, you don’t have a right to kill someone just because Obi-Wan cares for them,” Ahsoka dares to say, her ice blue eyes boring into the side of his face. He hisses out a breath between clenched teeth and ignores her. He may not have a right, but that won’t stop him. 

Obi-Wan is _his._ He has always been his. Just like his children are his. They will come back to him and he will rule his Empire the way he was always meant to. He will have it _all._ Someone like Han Solo will not stop him. _Nobody_ will. 

They drive into the night, a tense silence in the car that hasn’t been felt in a long time. It’s been a while since Ahsoka openly opposed his actions. Obi-Wan’s return is bringing the past to the surface. Vader still doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

 

 

 

 

Amidala is radiant today, her long hair pulled into a braid that wraps around her head. Her dress is opulent and expensive, something that Han would expect from a runway, not from an elected official. 

She smiles at the people surrounding her. This is an event and as such he’s wearing a suit he had to borrow from Luke. It’s a little tight, but he’s making do. It’s better than accompanying the mayor dressed like he’s going to assassinate instead of protect her. He’ll attract far less attention this way. Still, he’s _uncomfortable._

He hums, sipping on his drink and watches random people around the room until his eyes fall upon an old familiar face. Not familiar in that he knew them once because he has never met them, but grow up in New York your entire life and you’re bound to recognize it’s long time Governor. Han watches Palpatine walk for a moment, the man’s smile and eyes kind and yet… He walks like a predator, like something that is stalking its prey to kill and consume. He can see why Be-no _Obi-Wan_ never liked the man around Anakin. 

If the man has always looked like the monster that Han now knows he is, he completely understands. The man makes him feel oddly unsafe. Palpatine smiles a wide grin, embracing Padmé which has Han stiffening. They part and Palpatine wishes the woman a safe drive home as he takes his leave. He speaks as if he knows her, as if maybe their pasts are entwined too. The web that surrounds Obi-Wan, Vader, and Padmé is too deep, too complex for Han to fully grasp without all of the pieces. 

There is a history he doesn’t understand between them, one he is afraid to ask about. In any case, it doesn’t matter. He is not part of that past, just the future that resulted from it. He is bound to the Skywalker twins, a direct result from the tumultuous past all of these people share. 

“My Dear, when will you come visit me upstate? Albany misses your presence,” the nasty man inquires and Han doesn’t snarl, but he moves closer to them incase he makes any sudden moves. In reality, he can’t make any moves against the governor unless he does something truly vile or illegal. Han resists the urge to pout. 

“You know how busy the politics of New York City are, Governor.” Padmé removes herself from the man’s grasp. Again, Han finds himself impressed with the way she navigates social situations in a way neither of her children can. Padmé Amidala is a social genius, a studier of people, customs and behaviors. Luke and Leia are both too brash, too intense. It must come from a life under the tyrannical rule of Darth Vader. Still, he wonders who they would be if this woman was allowed a presence in their life. 

It is clear things would be very different. 

“Surely there is some time coming up, Mayor Amidala… You were such a trusted part of my team for years. Whenever you wish to come back, we will welcome you with open arms,” Palpatine smiles, but Han is sure Padmé sees it as the veiled insult it truly is. The man is acknowledging that Padmé will get no further than mayor in terms of state or federal level government. Her ex-whatever Vader was has made sure of it. The woman’s lips pull down at their corners. 

“Yes, well it seems I’ve outgrown Albany for the moment,” she says politely before nodding goodnight to the man and walking across the room where the wealthy Bail Organa waits. He is of New York’s elite Han knows, Padmé had instructed him on who is who before the event started. Bail is a trusted friend of Padmé’s and an advisor to Leia Skywalker as well. Han knows it is a political education; one her father explicitly wanted her to avoid so that she may avoid any interaction with her mother. 

Not for the first time, Han wonders just what exactly the twins know about their parentage. He watches Palpatine and his posse leave, the room immediately feeling lighter now that Vader’s spy has left the area. Han sighs, finally approaching the bartender. 

“Gin on the rocks, Good Sir,” he orders and the man nods sagely, pouring the drink and sliding it over to Han who nods in thanks. The air suddenly feels very heavy in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time. He looks around, suddenly looking at the windows, the exits… Something isn’t right. He’s alone tonight, the whole bearded european thing working for intimidation, but not really for covert security work. Chewbacca had complimented him on his suit, chuckling as Han stormed out of the headquarters earlier. Han sips at the gin, allowing his eyes to wander. 

In the far corner he sees her. The woman is very pale, circles around her eyes so deep and purple it looks like she’s been punched for a moment. Her stark black hair is pulled back into a high ponytail on her head and her red lips are pulled back in a vicious grin. He doesn’t recognize her from Padmé’s instruction on who’s who either, which is unusual as she isn’t anyone’s date. She’s alone, her promiscuous red dress drawing his attention to her like a beacon. 

…Like a _distraction._

Han immediately bounds across the floor towards Padmé, knocking her out of the way just as bullets rain down on the unsuspecting politicians. They roll under a table where Han assesses if she’s okay. Her arm is bleeding, but it appears to be a graze. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The gun on his hip is heavy and he removes it, placing it into Padmé’s grip. He knows the woman is a great shot. 

“Do you know where the mayor went?” They hear a voice ask when things settle and Han and Padmé both stiffen, Han bringing up a finger to indicate that she needs to be silent. She rolls her eyes, her silence an obvious factor in this situation. 

“If she escaped Vader will be pissed,” another voice utters and Han watches Padmé’s face pale. Her lips wrap around a word, a name. It is a soundless ‘Anakin’ that holds so much pain he shivers. Her wound is gushing blood now and he knows he must risk it. He rips his shirt, using the fabric to wrap the wound. The room is suddenly silent and Han knows they heard the fabric rip. He grabs his extra knife from where it’s been strapped to his leg. 

The table is thrown, tipped over the top of them and Han immediately lunges up, lodging the knife in the first attackers throat and pulling it lose, covering himself in blood. He hears Padmé fire from behind him, a thump indicating someone has been hurt or killed. It isn’t Padmé. Much like her daughter in this moment, the woman stands breathing heavily over her dead attacker. Han scans the area for any more attackers but determines them safe for the moment. They will need to move quickly though. 

He grabs Padmé’s hand, taking off with her in his grasp. He knows the killers, knows how they work. Cad Bane and Aurra Sing. There will be back up coming when they don’t check in with their team. They race down a set of stairs and out into the city where he drags her down several streets. At this point, both of their nice clothes are ruined, but he pays them no mind, flinging open a phone booth and stepping inside. 

They wait in the rain that starts soon after he makes his car until eventually a car pulls up, Wedge rolling down the window. Han and Padmé step inside the vehicle, very cold and very wet and he realizes he is still holding the woman’s hand. He detangles their fingers and smiles very shyly up at the woman. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes but Padmé shakes her head, holding up a finger to silence him. 

“You were braver than anyone I’ve met in years today, Mr. Solo. Luke and Leia are lucky to have someone like you in their life and I am lucky to call you a friend. Thank you for saving my life,” she says softly, bringing the younger man’s hand to her lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. It feels like a blessing from her, although Han wouldn’t know how she could know about him and Luke. Not that there even _is_ a him and Luke- He sighs, he really needs a drink and a good nap. 

They load Padmé inside where Leia is waiting, a nervous expression on her face. The younger woman approaches her mother and quietly check in with her. It is a private moment, one Han won’t intrude on and so he doesn’t listen to what it is they’re saying. He wonders again though, just how much the twins know about Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker. 

Suddenly, Leia whirls around, her attention solely on him. 

“Solo,” she greets, “who did this?” Her eyes are wide and fearful in a way he has never seen. He hadn’t even seen this in the warehouse where Leia had been the one he saved. He grins at her, all cockiness and reassurance. 

“Don’t worry, Your Worship, she’s okay. You should have her wound stitched up by the medics though. The people involved and now dead were Cad Bane and Aurra Sing. they undoubtedly were not working alone, but there is no danger here right now,” he answers and Leia takes a sharp breath. She nods, considering his words before gesturing to Wedge who leaves to take Padmé to what must be the medics. He goes to take his leave as well, really wanting that drink, but Leia’s slim fingers wrap around his wrist. 

He looks into her brown eyes and sees a direct mirror image of the woman he saved today. He wonders for a moment how he got so wrapped up with this crazy family, but he finds he wouldn’t have it any other way. Luke, Leia, Obi-Wan, Chewbacca, and even Padmé have become people he cares about. After having no one for so long it is nice to be a part of something, even if that something is the odd, heavily fucked up Skywalker clan. 

He wonders when he’ll get to meet Vader and make his set complete, because he knows it’ll happen. It is inevitable now. 

“Luke wants to see you in his office,” Leia informs him, her voice quiet, before she releases his arm and disappears down the corridor Padmé had been taken. Han watches her depart for a moment before heading upstairs. Chewbacca is lounging in a chair, his eyes closes and his chest rising and falling with sleep. There is a glass on the table next to him half empty with some very dark liquor in it. Han wrinkles his nose, ruffling Chewie’s thick mane of hair as he passes. 

He opens Luke’s door without knocking, which probably isn’t a good thing, but the man is on him in an instant either way, his arms wrapped around Han tightly. Luke’s face presses into his neck, his breath ghosting across Han’s collarbone and he resists the urge to shiver. 

_“Thank you,”_ Luke breathes and Han is struck by just how blue the other man’s eyes are. He leans in involuntarily, wanting to be back in Luke’s warmth. Luke’s hand comes up to brush his cheek and in the moment, no one else exists. It’s just him and this strange man who is suddenly Han’s entire night sky, his entire universe. He inhales the scent of Luke’s cologne, his hands finding their way to the other man’s hips. 

“Anytime, Kid,” he whispers and a mischievous light appears in Luke’s eyes. Before Han can say anything else, before he can move away so the temptation to wrap himself around Luke and never let go disappears, Luke _kisses_ him. 

Suddenly, the world around them disappears. They are floating amongst the stars for all Han can care, the only two beings alive and on fire, their very beings exploding to create the elements of the world. He pulls away, breathing and Luke’s eyes are sparkling, bluer than any ocean Han could ever look at. If he didn’t know he was fucked before, he knows now. Luke could ask him to do anything and he’d do it. Luke is his new reason for living.

The younger boy drags his calloused hand down Han’s face before spinning around, heading back over to his desk. Han doesn’t realize Luke had grabbed his hand until he’s nearly pulled over. He falls a bit before looking up at the boy and his grin, allowing himself to be deposited into a desk chair. 

“So,” Luke starts, his cheeks flushed with arousal, “I have your new mission.” Han sighs, but listens. He’s already dedicated all he’s got to Luke, might as well right? 

They don’t leave Luke’s office for a long while after that. 

 

 

 

 

Vader sits in his office, Ahsoka entering with an apprehensive look on her face. She appears to both be furious and resigned, which means that she must have heard about the thing he had been planning that he had purposefully left her out of. 

“Cad Bane and Aurra Sing are dead,” she announces, tossing the report onto his desktop. He looks at it briefly before raising his head to explain, but Ahsoka is gone. He knew she would be angry about him trying to kill Padmé, but he cannot leave her alive. No matter their past… She is a political enemy and potentially a dangerous one. He sighs, looking down at the report. 

There, staring him in the face, is his new favorite name. He snarls, throwing the papers and leaning his head against the cool wood of his desk. 

_Han Solo._

How _interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH! a new chapter! thank you all for being patient with this story, i still love it but it is very complicated ! thank you for reading !

**Author's Note:**

> please please please let me know what you think of this one, I would really appreciate the feedback since it's not in the star wars universe! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy it!


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